


Drunk in the Woods

by jolliesrogers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 17:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolliesrogers/pseuds/jolliesrogers
Summary: Hermione Granger did not know who thought an end-of-the-year bash in the Forbidden Forest would be a good idea, but it could only end disastrously.~In which Hermione loosens up, liquors up, and might just get a kiss out of it.~Inspired by Walk the Moon's Drunk in the Woods





	Drunk in the Woods

Hermione Granger did not know who thought an end-of-the-year bash in the Forbidden Forest would be a good idea, but it could only end disastrously.

“C’mon ‘Mione think of it as a great chance to promote inter-house unity,” Ron said, the corners of his mouth trying- and failing- not to quirk up at the edges. “You’re always talking about how the Houses need to mingle more. This is a chance.”

She knew his reasoning was purely manipulative, for Ron always scoffed at the idea of making nice with Slytherins (or even Hufflepuffs, for that matter) but she knew that this party could help achieve her goals of breaking down some the House divisions, one drink at a time.

The Gryffindor common room had been filled with talks of this supposedly legendary party since the anonymous invitations arrived earlier that morning. The letters had simply appeared in the common room before breakfast, neatly addressed to every sixth- and seventh-year student in handwriting no Gryffindor could recognize. Gossiping over breakfast only confirmed that every House had received these invitations, and yet there were no leads on whom the hosts could be.

She glanced at the armchair next to Ron, where Harry sat, hoping he could be a voice of reason.

“Sorry, Hermione, Ginny wants to go. And Seamus is bringing firewhiskey.” Harry shrugged, but didn’t seem nearly repentant enough.

With a great sigh (that was not dramatic at all, thank you very much), Hermione conceded that she would apparently be spending her last Friday night in Hogwarts risking her life in the Forbidden Forest under the illusion of being a normal, partying, teenaged witch.

“Fine! But I’m only having one drink--“ she started, only to be interrupted by Harry and Ron’s loud whooping.

“--And I’m not helping either of you if you get too drunk, not that night or the morning after.” She finished sternly, and swallowed the smile that threatened to appear when both lads looked somewhat deflated.

 

~

 

Hermione Granger did not know who thought an end-of-the-year bash in the Forbidden Forest would be a good idea, but she wish she could kiss them.

The directions to the party lay in the invitation, as the paper began to glow at nine in the evening, and grew brighter as one walked in the right direction. Students who tried to sneak in younger friends were dismayed to find that it glow dimmed until it disappeared in the presence of those not invited once outside of the castle.

Once sufficiently inside the Forest, the invitation ceased its glowing and was replaced by floating lights along the trail that lead to the clearing, preventing anyone from getting lost. The clearing itself had silencing and shielding spells cast on it, allowing the partygoers to be as loud as they wanted and celebrate without fear of any of the Forest’s inhabitants, large or small, crashing the festivities.

The mysterious hosts had found the perfect clearing within the Forbidden Forest. It was large enough to fit the roughly hundred students who had shown up to the event, yet small enough to keep it feeling fairly intimate. There was a steady bonfire in the middle, with a lovely charm surrounding it to keep drunken bodies from falling in while still letting the heat of the flames envelope the clearing. Some students had thought to bring their own clandestine supplies, but there were already tables on the edges of the glen loaded with Ogden’s Best, mead, Butterbeer, and even sobriety potions for those who had a little too much of the formers.

Hermione was positively fascinated by the thought someone had put into this, not to mention their clear skill with spellwork. 

Despite her reluctance to go and her claim that only one firewhiskey would be consumed, the Forbidden Forest festivity had brought out a side of her that some would say was positively un-Hermione-ish. She was simply having a lovely time with some of her favorite people.

Her heart was full, watching Harry attempt to twirl a giggly Ginny next to the fire, while Ron, Seamus, and Dean were arguing loudly over something Quidditch but with smiles big enough for her to know they were enjoying themselves. She had somehow managed to find herself attempting to keep up with Luna’s teaching of some very unusual, but amusing, dance moves.

“Hermione your arms are simply all wrong,” Luna softly adjusted Hermione’s right arm so that it was bent at more of a seventy-five degree angle instead of a strict ninety. “I don’t think this dance is right for you.”

“Luna! If I can get an O in Potions under Snape, I can learn this dance!” Hermione asserted, a little too loudly, but with a bright smile. She couldn’t help it, she felt so warm and relaxed surrounded by all of her friends and classmates, and only some of that was to blame on the third glass of firewhiskey she had consumed fifteen minutes prior.

Luna returned her smile and, taking her hand, spun her, nearly causing a collision with Harry and Ginny who had stopped attempting to dance in favor of swaying gently in each other’s arms. The couple didn’t seem at all bothered by Hermione’s intrusion into their personal space for they were too absorbed in their own bubble, something she found equally adorable and nauseating.

“Luna, my love, I think it is time I switch to Butterbeer. But, I will learn that dance!” Hermione called, releasing Luna’s hand and swerving around the many bodies that stood between her and the nearest table of drinks.

Arriving at the table, Hermione performed a quick Scourgify on one of the glasses from the table before filling it with Butterbeer and taking a deep draw of the liquid, smiling faintly as the smooth liquid soothed the residual burn from her previous firewhiskeys. She was analyzing her level of sobriety, or lack thereof, while gazing out into the Forest beyond the table when she felt the peculiar sensation of being watched.

Hermione turned slowly, pressing her lips against the outside of her glass while she glanced around the fire. The Houses were still fairly segregated, Gryffindors to the far left of her, blending gradually into Hufflepuffs directly across the fire and Ravenclaws on her side of the fire, with Slytherins to her right. Red, yellow, and blue robes mixed fairly well closest to the fire, and a few Slytherins were making conversation with Ravenclaws and even a rogue Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. It seems Ron wasn’t too far off in his claim of House mingling after all.

And yet, Hermione still felt eyes on her. She took a more leisurely look at the Slytherins and found a pair of grey eyes that locked onto hers. They widened almost inperceptibly, but did not break the stare. She knew the eyes belonged to Draco Malfoy, and it made her curious to wonder why he was unflinchingly acknowledging her, a small smile even forming on his lips.

While Malfoy had been the object of all her most violent desires for many years, the Battle of Hogwarts and their final year in school had led them to have an altered relationship. Hermione, Harry, and even Ron, had testified in support of Draco and Narcissa following the war, and while they were far from being the best of friends, the Golden Trio and the Slytherin were now on civil terms.

Malfoy rose from his seat on a transfigured stump and, placing a hand on the shoulder of the dark-haired Ravenclaw he had been speaking to, began to walk over to the table Hermione was still leaning against.

Malfoy mimics her stance and faces the fire, but glances over at Hermione.

“The Forest feels a bit different than when we were first-years, doesn’t it?” Malfoy asks with a drawl. Hermione notices his smirk almost looks like a smile.

“If the party keeps going, you may still have a chance to run out of it screaming yet.” Hermione replies, matching his smirk by twisting the corner of her own mouth.

Malfoy chuckles lightly, and she finds it is an oddly pleasant sound.

“Yes, well, Potter made sure we wouldn’t be running into anything quite that nasty here again.” His smile fades a little bit, as does her smirk, both remembering seeing Voldemort as children and then watching him fall barely a year ago.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Wow, Malfoy, you really know how to keep the party going.” She finishes her Butterbeer and turns to face him, her right hip propping her up against the table.

He chuckles again, just as low as before, and Hermione finds it strange that it may be the first genuine laugh she’s heard from him in the seven years they have known each other.

He turns his back to the fire and grabs a glass for himself, and Hermione notices he also uses a quick Scourgify before he pours two fingers worth of firewhiskey. It shouldn’t make her smile, so she blames the little grin on the alcohol.

Malfoy then grabs her glass from her hands, his long fingers brushing hers briefly along the glass, momentarily sending static through her mind. 

Just because he is as pale as ice doesn’t mean he is ice, silly, she thinks, and is then surprised to be thinking about his fingers at all.

Malfoy seems to ignore her quizzical expression and pours her a firewhiskey that matches his.

“Malfoy, I’ve already had three of those, I hardly think I need another.”

“I didn’t take you for a lightweight, Granger, I’m disappointed.” His mouth quirks up in the corner yet again, and his eyes are teasing and warm despite their cool color.

Hermione squints at him, brow furrowing. While she knows she is above his adolescent goading, especially in regards to drinking more alcohol, what firewhiskey she has already consumed is lighting a competitive heat in her chest.

She bites her lip instinctively as she contemplates whether to fall into this obvious trap, and she for a moment she imagines she catches Malfoy’s eyes glance down to where her teeth are ever-so-slightly worrying her lip. It brings a heat to her cheeks that she blames on the firewhiskey.

Snatching her glass back and nearly sloshing the contents, she raises her new firewhiskey up so that she can just make eye contact with Malfoy above the rim.

“To killing the mood.” He says, eyes no longer teasing, but still quite warm.

“To Malfoy killing the mood.” She replies with a smile, and clinks their glasses together.

They both down the contents of their glasses in a single go, and Hermione opens her eyes to see her grimace at the burn of the alcohol reflected on Malfoy’s face. But then he smiles at her, possibly the first one she has received from him with absolutely no malice.

She doesn’t hesitate to return it.

 

~

 

As the night gets later, or rather as the morning gets earlier, Hermione is still happy to be sitting amongst her friends. She can’t help but think about how normal it all is.

However, thoughts of normal brings her mind back to how this can never be normal, how this group of kids that are somehow adults can never be normal. She thinks of all the students who should be there, but because of the war, cannot have this night to pretend that they are a regular sixteen or seventeen year old, sneaking out and drinking and not worrying, not panicking, not dying.

Hermione is seated on a fallen log next to Ron, while Harry is sprawled on the ground in front of them with Ginny’s head in his lap. They’re arguing over whether Harry should follow through with some ridiculous hippogriff tattoo, and Harry’s glasses are slightly askew and Ginny has tears in her eyes from laughing and Ron is a remarkable shade of vermilion from the firewhiskey.

She smiles, happy to be there, but it’s tinged with a bit of sadness, too.

Hitting Ron’s knee, she makes an excuse to take a walk, waving off the calls of “don’t get lost” from her friends.

She weaves around the students still at the party, both upright and passed out, and finds herself walking through the wards of the clearing back down the path of floating lights. Hermione pokes at one, watching it bounce gently off her finger and slowly float a few centimeters higher. Looking past the light, she sees another clearing, much smaller than the one hosting the party, but much emptier.

Hermione sets her own floating lights out to the clearing, like breadcrumbs to make sure she doesn’t get lost in the ancient trees. Lying down on the grass of the small vale, she tries to identify the constellations but is a bit too drunk for such fine work with her eyes. Instead, she settles on simply appreciating their twinkling beauty. The sky seems to waver unsteadily, but thankfully not in a sickening way.

After a few minutes, the sound of footsteps breaks her reverie, and she sits up, pointing her wand towards the source of the noise, a hex on her lips in case of some violent forest creature.

“The wards protecting against creatures extend past the actual party itself, don’t worry.” A familiar voice reaches her moments before she sees Malfoy enter the clearing, hands raised and a small smile playing on his lips.

Hermione’s brows contract in confusion before shooting up.

“You planned this party?” She asks, astonished.

Malfoy lets out another chuckle that twists Hermione’s stomach, before responding.

“No, that would actually be some of my other housemates who wish to remain anonymous, but they asked I help with the spells.”

Her jaw drops in a fashion that she is sure is awfully unappealing, but she can’t help but be impressed by the clear skill Malfoy has when it comes to magic. Even more surprising is that he is so nonchalant instead of bragging about his handiwork.

“I’ve been thinking about how brilliant these spells and wards have been all night! You did incredible work.” She gushes, not even thinking about how this could inflate his ego.

He gives her a sincere smile, before gesturing to the grass beside her in a clear request to join her on the ground. Hermione pats the space next to her clumsily, before brushing the dirt and grass clinging to her hand on her robes and laying back down to look up at the sky.

Malfoy sits next to her in a less than graceful fashion, letting out a small “humph” as his bottom hits the ground, which pulls a giggle out of Hermione. Malfoy sends a weak glare in her direction but says nothing before laying back and joining her in her stargazing.

“You know what?” Hermione starts, unthinkingly.

“Yes?”

“I’m kinda drunk.” Hermione says it with such certainty that Malfoy doesn’t chuckle, but releases a full body laugh that causes Hermione to roll to her side to face him, attempting to pierce him with a stern look before she begins laughing too.

It’s an odd feeling to be laughing in the middle of a dangerous forest late at night with someone who used to be your sworn enemy, but it felt good. Hermione loved the feeling of it in a way that had to be more than just the firewhiskey.

Once the laughing subsided, and Hermione got a handle on her rogue giggles, Malfoy sat up and got to his feet. She looked up at him, almost hurt for a moment that he would leave so soon, pushing herself up on her elbows to see where he was going. Without a word, but with a smile, he offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation.

He pulled her along, past her floating lights and back to the main path, and then away from the party. Malfoy soldiered on, walking not with the graceful, aristocratic air Hermione was used to from him, but like a relatively clumsy teenaged boy. In that moment, she realized he might just be as drunk as she. The thought made her laugh a little too loud, and Malfoy glanced back, confused, but gave her a smile that may have been a little too wide to be simply polite. She could feel the warmth radiate from his hand, up her arm, and deep into her stomach.

They approached a small, gurgling creek that seemed far too innocent to be in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. Malfoy released Hermione’s hand to quickly step from stone to stone, crossing the creek. However, he managed to step on the edge and splash some water on the last one, swearing colorfully at his wet shoe and corner of his robe, while Hermione tried valiantly not to laugh at his blunder.

“Careful, now, you’re even more intoxicated than I am.” Malfoy called, holding out a hand to help Hermione cross if needed.

Hermione placed her fists on her hips, cocking them to one side before telling Malfoy where to shove it in equally colorful language, but they both knew the venom wasn’t there. Malfoy instead attempted to swallow a smile while trying to look properly abashed. Hermione appreciated the effort.

However, still wanting to prove her sobriety, she tried to cross the creek as quickly and purposefully as Malfoy had, only to slip on the water his misstep had splashed on the rocks.

Eyes wide, Hermione realized her body was rapidly approaching Malfoy’s, and winced in preparation for the impact. She hit him hard, and despite his usually quick Seeker’s reflexes, their mutual levels of intoxication led them both to the ground, with Hermione tucked against Malfoy’s chest. Someone, or perhaps both of them, made a very unrefined “oompf” noise, and neither made any attempt to move for several seconds after the fall. Hermione came to her senses first and crawled up Malfoy’s body, trying to see his face to see if he was hurt.

“Draco! Are you- are you okay? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry!”

Malfoy opened one eye, blearily looking at Hermione’s too-wide ones, but a smile starts to form on his lips.

“I think you’ve broken me, Granger.” 

Hermione rolls her eyes and releases the tight grip she hadn’t realized she had on the front of his robes. She notices that his arms that wrapped around her in the fall have not released her yet. Relieved that he seems to be fine, she lets her forehead rest on his shoulder, a smile forming and before long she’s laughing once more. She feels the vibrations through his chest and realizes Malfoy is laughing too but trying to hide it. She lifts her head and wriggles around to get a better look at his face, only to see two grey eyes staring at her inquisitively. She can’t help but stare back, having never been this close to see all the nuances in their color.

“You seem to be getting awfully comfortable there, Hermione.” He states dryly.

She blushes what she’s sure is a shade of red to rival Ron’s own blush, and pretends she’s tensing more from the comment and implication than from the sharp twist and warmth in her stomach that came from him using her given name. However, she notices that there is also a distinct tension of Malfoy’s pressing against her thigh from where her leg fell between his two.

“Well, Draco,” she starts, drawing out the vowels in a very Malfoy-esque drawl. “I’d say you seem very comfortable yourself.”

As she stresses the penultimate word, she presses her thigh against Malfoy’s bulge, earning a satisfying hiss from the Slytherin. His eyes flutter shut, staying closed as he lets out a hum.

“I can’t help if you’re taking advantage of my insobriety, Hermione.” Malfoy has the slightest hint of a smirk ghosting across his lips, and now Hermione cannot ignore the heat her body feels as his tongue wraps around her name.

Her eyes follow as she drags her finger from the corner of his jaw, trailing it up to the tip of his chin, holding it there steadfast before glancing up at his eyes that have now opened and seem far darker than they were a few moments ago.

“Then I guess I’ll blame my own insobriety, Draco.”

Hermione leans in and places her lips against his, gently, letting the quiet buzz in her head from the alcohol silence her thoughts. She means to keep the kiss short, until Draco’s hands slide up her back, one wrapping around the back of her neck with his thumb tracing circles on her cheek while the other nestles in her curls. She melts into his touch while he deepens the kiss.

They both pull back slightly from the kiss after a moment that simultaneously feels like a millisecond and an eternity, small, shy smiles on both their faces.

Draco brushes a curl that had fallen into her eyes back away from her face, and Hermione slid off his body, giving them both a little room to breathe. She stood, not noticing the brief flash of hurt on Draco’s face that mirrored her own when he stood in the small clearing, before turning and offering her hand to him silently but with a smile, as he did once before. He took it without hesitation.

Together they crossed the creek once again, more carefully this time, and followed the floating lights back to the party. They hesitated before crossing the wards, glancing between their joined hands and each other’s eyes.

“You know, I’m glad you found me in that clearing.” Hermione says quietly, nodding her head in the direction of her stargazing spot. Draco answered only with a smile that made her heart tighten.

If anyone noticed them enter the wards still holding hands, they didn’t say anything, but soon they released their grips and walked back to their friend groups.

They continued to share small, secret smiles for the rest of the early morning, with the unspoken agreement that their kiss was just the first step of something much, much more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed my ~very first fic~
> 
> Any and all feedback welcome!


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